Sisterhood
by BrokenAria
Summary: It's said that no bond is stronger than that of Brotherhood. Obviously no one had met the Winchester sisters. Because Sisterhood could definitely be just as strong... if not stronger. Fem!Winchesters (Fem!Sam, Fem!Dean) Eventual Pairings


**Author's Note:** Yeah, yeah I'm sure this has been done a million times, and a million times been unfinished, but I just wanted to at least try it. I'm a huge sucker for genderbend stories, so I thought "why the hell not?" and that's where we are now. Wanted to try my hand at longer chapters as well, so if you like the length or want me to split it up into smaller ones be sure to let me know.

I doubt anyone will even read this story though... so yeah, probably just going to be writing for myself in the end.

**Tags:** Fem!Winchesters, Sporadic Genderbends, Eventual Pairings, Slight AU (but follows canon without diverging too much), Slight OOC

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Maybe the re-imagining of certain characters, but I don't have a copyright so whatever.

* * *

Never Go Home

* * *

"You know how I feel about Halloween," Samantha groaned, as she glanced guiltily at the costume that laid untouched in it's packaging on her bed.

Jesse pouted his lips slightly, his blonde hair sticking out in wild, unkempt curls beneath the Doctor's cap he had plastered on his head. Samantha let her multifaceted orbs scan the man's form, which was currently packed tightly beneath the mint colored scrubs.

More than anything she wanted to tear off the damned costume and just stay home for the night.

But, hell, did he have to look so godforsaken hot in it?

Submitting to her fate, Samantha shook her head, fanning her long chestnut locks around her in the process.

"Fine, we can go out," she relented after a moment, garnering one of her favorite lopsided grins. "But I'm not wearing the Nurse costume. No matter how good you look in that Doctor's get-up."

"Was worth a shot," Jesse chuckled as he swept her into a side-hug. Placing a kiss on her scalp, the blonde snatched the keys from the dish on the vanity and headed for the door.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

A hiss escaped Samantha's lips after she downed her first shot of the night.

The alcohol stung her throat, but went down smooth as ice after that.

She wasn't particularly a heavy drinker, but she had more than enough baggage that she could probably drink anyone in the crowded bar under the table.

So, when Jesse handed her another shot, she shrugged and accepted it anyway.

"To Sam," he said as he raised his own shot glass. "For taking on the LCAT, and coming out victorious."

"Come on - " Samantha protested weakly, but honestly she didn't mind the praise.

After all, she had worked her ass off on that exam; she deserved more than a little congratulations for the effort.

Despite that though, she had long learned how to live without attention for her accomplishments.

Jesse sent her a knowing grin, lifting his celebratory shot all the higher. "No need to act so humble. Sam scored a 174. A _174_."

"Is that good?" one of their drunken friends, who was currently dressed as a Zombie (a pretty convincing one at that if Samantha did say so herself), slurred before downing his drink.

"Scary good," Jesse answered with another blinding smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Samantha clinked her glass against Jesse's in an attempt to shut him up. Which seemed to work for the most part - until the glass was emptied of course.

"You're going to get that full ride, I just know it, Sam."

"Well, I can only hope," Samantha gave a slight unabashed smile.

"You're going to, okay?" the blonde insisted as he placed a tanned hand over one of her's and squeezed lightly.

"What would I do without you?" Samantha leaned in to place a Whiskey flavored kiss on his lips. Jesse chuckled beneath the kiss, lifting his hands to hold his girlfriend's face in place as he trailed the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

Once they finally disentangled, Samantha sat back with a heated blush coloring her cheeks.

_I love you, _she wanted to say, but held the words back for some reason.

Jesse was better than she ever could have hoped for in the broken shamble she called a life.

She didn't want to jinx it now.

She _couldn't_ jinx it now.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

That night, Samantha awoke with a start.

She hadn't been sleeping all that deeply to begin with, but the creak was loud enough to stir her regardless.

Shifting a glance towards Jesse, she noted that his side of the bed was undisturbed for the most part.

Lightly tugging the sheets off of her, the brunette swung her long legs over the edge of the mattress. A chill raked her lithe frame in the night air, as all she had on was a tight camisole and a pair of shorts that hung rather loosely on her hips.

Aside from that however, her blood was spiked with icy adrenaline.

The thrill it brought to her system summoned a twisted grin to her full lips; a customary greeting to a friend she hadn't seen in far too long.

But quite frankly, she could do well without ever seeing it again.

Forcing herself to focus, all Samantha could hear in the suddenly too quiet house was the even breathing of the blonde behind her and the blood coursing through her ears.

Just to be sure though, she padded carefully on the wooden floorboards.

Experience outweighed her growing anxiety, and somehow she managed to keep a quiet pace.

After a suspended minute, movement suddenly danced across her vision, and a silhouette was barely visible in the near darkness.

Swallowing the sudden well of saliva in her mouth, she rounded the corner and followed the shadow into the living room. Before the intruder could turn to see her however, she jumped them from behind.

To be fair, all she meant to do was whirl them around to face her, albeit forcefully, but the intruder was tensed for the attack.

Shoving her hands off their shoulders, the intruder ducked and barreled at Samantha, trying desperately to get leverage on the brunette.

After trading blow for blow, eventually the intruder swept her ankles and she crumpled onto the hard wood with a thump.

"Easy there, Sammy," a familiar voice teased as they dangled a triumphant smirk over her face.

"Deanna?" Samantha demanded hazily.

"One and only," the older sister's grin widened just a fraction.

"You scared the living crap out of me."

"That's because you're out of practice."

Samantha scoffed, hooking her legs around her sister's waist, and quickly switched their positions. Once the brunette was on top she tilted her head ever so slightly, brows raised in a silent challenge.

"Or not," sheepish laughter rumbled in Deanna's chest. "Now get the hell off o' me, would ya, Sasquatch?"

Ignoring the questions bubbling in her mind, Samantha offered a tentative hand, which her older sister eagerly accepted.

Once they were finally at eye level, each sister sized the other up respectively.

Even in the near darkness, Samantha could tell Deanna looked nearly the same as the last time they had met. Her sandy golden hair, which was typically tied up in a haphazard bun was thrown loose, leaving her hair to hang straight down.

Secretly, Samantha was always jealous of the girl's hair, as her own tangled at the slightest provocation, while Deanna's never seemed to knot no matter what she did to it.

Aside from that, Deanna was also dressed in her usual attire - cut off boyfriend shorts, jackets layered over a tank top, and the same pair of lace up, steel toed, combat boots she'd had since Middle School.

And of course the same 'give em Hell' look in her hazel-green eyes - or at least Samantha assumed, as she couldn't exactly tell in the current lack of lighting.

Deanna, on the other hand, was surprised at how much her Sammy had changed in their time apart.

Samantha had traded most of her muscles for long, wiry limbs and the hair she had kept short, for fear of it being used in a fight, was well past her shoulders now.

Not to mention the brunette towered over her even more so than before.

While Deanna stood at a solid five foot six, Samantha was nearing six feet without any shoes on.

Before the blonde could comment on any of which, her younger sister leveled her a rather firm glare.

"What're you doing here, Deanna?" the brunette asked in a particularly clipped tone.

Why did this always have to happen to her?

Samantha had finally scheduled the interview with someone in Admissions at Stanford, and of course, _of course_, her past had to catch up with her... literally.

Sensing her sister's discomfort, Deanna slapped the brunette on the shoulder to diffuse the tension - failing miserably.

"I'm just here for a beer, Sammy."

"Sam?" a new voice suddenly quirked up, as the lights flicked on.

The two sisters spun around to see Jesse leaning against the wall beside them - in nothing but a pair of boxers, which were currently draping rather low.

_Helloooo, happy trail,_ Deanna thought as she took in Sammy's new boytoy.

Not necessarily the type of guy Deanna usually went for, but then again, since when did she discriminate?

If you were hot, you were hot.

"I love Calvin Klein," she eventually cooed.

Jesse blinked first once, then twice. "What?"

Deanna glanced pointedly at the waistband of the boxers before raising her hazel orbs back to the man's sculpted features.

"Can I just say, you are waaaay out of my sister's league."

"Sister?" Jesse's brows furrowed in confusion, trailing his eyes back over to his girlfriend. "What's going on here, Sam?"

Samantha let out a resigned sigh. "This is Deanna... my older sister."

"_The_ Deanna?"

"Oh, so you've heard of me?" Deanna wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before turning back towards her sister. "Now, if you'll excuse us we have some private 'family business' to discuss. Nice meeting you though."

Samantha didn't quite get the memo however, as she hastily pushed past her sister and crossed the room to stand beside Jesse.

"Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of him."

Deanna bit back the millions of comebacks she could respond with in that moment, and picked her words carefully... for once.

"Um, okay. Dad... _hasn't been home in a few days_."

"Probably just working overtime - or on a bender." Samantha's jaw set irritably. "He'll stumble his way back home sooner or later." _Like he always does,_ she omitted, more for Jesse's sake than Deanna's.

This wasn't really anything new though, after all their father had no sense of punctuality whatsoever.

"Dad is on a _Hunting Trip_," Deanna emphasized through gritted teeth, praying to God that Samantha got the fucking hint. "And he _hasn't been home in a few days_."

Samantha's eyes finally snapped to attention, and her hand dropped from it's protective stance around Jesse.

"Jess, please excuse us for a bit."

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

After throwing on the only clean pair of jeans she could find and buttoning a flannel shirt over her cami, Samantha trudged back into the living room to find Deanna sprawled on the dilapidated couch, sipping one of her beers.

"Let's get this over with," the brunette said with a quick crack of her knuckles.

Deanna downed the rest of the bottle and balanced it on the coffee table.

Resisting the urge to tell her sister to use a coaster, Samantha closed her eyes and continued to roll her wrists anxiously.

"What kind of beer was that?" the blonde wondered aloud, as she stood and adjusted her jacket.

"What?"

"Pretty good choice... even for you," Deanna appraised her with an amused smirk. Samantha only responded with an exaggerated eyeroll, before showing her sister the door.

"You know, you really can't just barge in like this," Samantha huffed as they made their way down the apartment staircase.

After two years Samantha had finally made a new life for herself.

Two years of working her ass off in Pre-Law.

Two years of trying to beat the old nerves out of her system.

Two years of making a family - a new one. One that didn't have such insane extra curricular activities.

And she was finally normal.

Or at least as close to normal as she was ever likely to get.

"You seriously can't expect me to just drive off with you in the night," the brunette said more delicately. "I need to stay here."

Deanna let out an exasperated sigh. "You're not hearing me, Sammy,"

"I am - "

"No... Dad. Is. Missing."

"Missing or just_ late_?"

"Missing," Deanna insisted, starting to lose her patience... if she ever really had any to begin with. "I need your help to find him."

"He's been missing before," Samantha reminded her, then prattled off some of the times that they had feared the worst.

Like with the Poltergeist situation in Amherst, or the Devil's Gates in Clifton. Even though the two sisters had been worried out of their gourds at the time, in the end their father would eventually stumble back into the hotel room, bloodied, beaten and drunk.

Every time he was missing.

Every time he was fine.

Now was no different.

Deanna whirled around once she reached bottom of the staircase, fixing an intense gaze on her sister.

"Not for this long, Sammy."

Samantha searched her older sister's eyes hesitantly, finding the one thing she didn't want to - resolve, and above that, fear.

"Are you in or are you out?" the blonde changed tact.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?

"Either," Samantha replied tiredly. "I swore off hunting for good, and I meant it, Deanna."

Deanna licked her lips thoughtfully. "Hunting was never easy, but it was never that bad."

Samantha scoffed.

She had no idea what world her sister was living in, but it was that bad.

It was _always_ that bad.

In fact, she could distinctly recall the time in her youth when her dad handed her a .45 when she mentioned she was afraid of the thing in her closet. At the age of nine, all she had wanted was the comfort of her often-absent father.

Not a lecture on how to keep out the things that went bump in the night.

Of course, she wasn't the type of person that needed to be coddled anymore, but didn't fathers tend to treat their daughters a little more delicately?

Well, normal fathers anyway - John Winchester was anything but.

After the death of their mother, he changed - not that she could really remember him before - but, he became so obsessed with hunting down the thing that had killed her, that his daughters slipped through the cracks.

He may have cared about their safety, but their sanity? Their sense of normalcy?

Definitely not.

"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Samantha demanded sharply, the question coming out harsher than she meant it to.

Deanna ignored her anyway, and beelined for the Impala.

"Deanna, we were raised like warriors."

"So?" the blonde challenged, still not facing her baby sister. "Would you rather live a normal 'Apple Pie' life?"

Quite frankly, yes she would. But the way her older sister said it made it sound like the dumbest idea - the worst possible thing that could happen to a person.

"Maybe not normal," Samantha gave in slightly. "But _safe_."

Deanna couldn't help the stinging sensation Samantha's words brought to her chest.

Her sister had ran away for such an insignificant reason?

Sure, their father basically pushed the youngest Winchester into it, but still.

They were Hunters. There was no running away from that. There was no normal. There was no safe. There was the next hunt, and that was it.

Yeah, okay, it hadn't been their choice to become Hunters, but that didn't mean jack-shit.

They may have been 'warriors', but they were still a family.

You can't run from your blood.

"Dad is in real trouble right now, Sammy," Deanna spat after a moment. "Real trouble. He could be dead, for all we know." Even though she had little to go on, she had a gut feeling - and that was enough for her. Wherever the man was, he was in a deep load of shit.

"What I do know though," the blonde crossed her arms indignantly. "Is that I can't do this alone."

At that Samantha rolled her eyes. "Yes you can."

After all, this was Deanna Winchester they were talking about.

Even as far as Hunters go, the blonde was well known for her abilities.

She could kick ass and look hot doing it.

The brunette had seen her older sister tough through hundreds - _thousands_ - of situations more difficult than this. Not to mention kill just as many monsters as their father did.

All that, on top of being the 'protective older sister' that beat the crap out of anyone that even looked at her baby sister the wrong way.

So, really, Deanna could handle a simple search-and-rescue mission just fine on her own. And they both knew it.

"Yeah, I can," Deanna admitted, the small hint of pride marred by the very obvious worry in her voice. "But I'd rather not."

In that moment, Deanna knew from the look that crossed Samantha's face that she had her.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

A sardonic chuckle escaped Samantha's lips as she unlocked the one drawer in the shared vanity that she never let Jesse see or know about. The one that contained all of her old Hunting supplies and mementos.

A machete she used to chop off a Vampire's head when she was a teenager.

The first flask, to hold Holy Water, Deanna had given her as a birthday present.

And her most prized possession - a locket with a picture of her mother inside.

Which, had been somewhat of a bitch to get in the first place. Considering their father never talked about the late Mary Winchester, or let either of his daughters even breach the subject, Samantha had to go off on her own to obtain it.

In the end, it hadn't really been that good of a picture. After all it was one she had taken from the records of an old yearbook. But it was the only colored one she could find, so she printed off, cut it into the shape of a heart and stuffed it into an old locket she found.

For the life of her, the brunette couldn't remember where she got the piece of jewelry.

Maybe from a Hunt?

Didn't really matter regardless though.

Taking a moment to flip open the slightly rusted gold locket, she was once again stunned at the resemblance between Mary and Deanna. Deanna was basically the spit and image of their mother. There were some differences, like how Mary's hair was lighter and curlier, but otherwise they could be twins.

Smiling lightly to herself, Samantha closed the locket and looped it around her neck before tucking it safely under her camisole - hiding it like she had for years around her father.

_'Kind of like riding a bike, eh, Sammy?'_ Deanna's words from just a few minutes ago replayed in her mind.

After Samantha had finally agreed to helping her older sister (under the condition that they be back by Monday in time for her interview), Deanna had given her the run-down of their dad's last Hunt.

A case of ten missing men over the course of the past twenty years on the same five mile stretch of road just outside of Jericho, California. Recently, however, it started happening more and more, which is why their dad went to investigate.

That was three weeks ago though.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, Deanna even had a voicemail recording from their father that she had received yesterday. The message was the standard 'something awful this way comes' which is why when Samantha suggested there was EVP on it, they picked out the real message.

A woman, or more accurately the ghost of a woman, saying:

_'I can never go home.'_

Ever since the brunette came back upstairs to pack, she rolled the phrase over and over in her head.

For some reason it unsettled her.

In ways more than just the typical spooks she got from a case.

"Sam," Jesse said suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts. Tucking the last of her Hunting supplies beneath the clothes in her duffel, she turned her attention to her boyfriend.

"Are you taking off?" Jesse asked at her reluctance, his brows furrowing tightly on his forehead. "I mean... Is this about your dad? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," she waved a hand dismissively. "Just... family drama." Samantha grimaced slightly, turning away to grab a few extra pairs of underwear and surreptitiously lock her 'junk drawer' back up. By any standard, Samantha was a fantastic liar, but lying to Jesse straight out made her somewhat uncomfortable. Sure, she often lied by omission, but this was different.

Unfortunately, Jesse picked up on that.

"Didn't your sister say something about a Hunting trip though?" the blonde wondered, trying his hardest to sound like he wasn't suspicious, and failing.

Heaving a sigh, Samantha turned off as much of her emotions as she could and relayed a story about John hunting deer with a few friends. In retrospect, maybe she could have come up with better names than Jim, Jack and Jose, but whatever worked.

Mollified for the most part, Jesse stretched his toned arms over his chest and dropped the sleuthing.

"You'll make it back at least in time for the interview, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Samantha teased, zipping the duffel and hefting it over her flannel clad shoulder. "This will only be for a few days, I promise."

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

"Breakfast?" Deanna asked as she ambled out of the run-down gas station. Samantha rubbed the exhaustion from her eyes, only to notice that what her older sister considered 'breakfast' was a candy bar and a bottle of soda. Samantha would have laughed at the classic antics of her sister, if she hadn't been so focused on finishing this case as quickly as possible.

Plus, the less she let Deanna get under the skin the better. Samantha may have been stubborn, but her older sister had ways of getting her to do things she didn't want to. Like going on a wild goose chase to search for their dad for example.

"No, I'm good," the brunette eventually replied, before going back to stretching. Somewhere between her apartment and Jericho she had passed out. Last she remembered it was pitch black out, yet now it had to be midday at least.

Considering the box of cassette tapes at her feet, she counted herself lucky for that.

Watching her sister take the gas pump out of the Impala, Samantha wondered offhandedly how she was able to pay for all this.

There was no way the blonde would ever be caught dead with a job.

Then again Deanna had learned from the best.

If anything, the woman was probably carrying around a box chalked full of stolen I.D.'s and Credit Cards.

Just like their father.

"You really should update your music collection, you know?" Samantha said as Deanna slid back inside and restarted the engine, lifting the box of cassette tapes for emphasis.

The blonde narrowed her hazel orbs at her younger sister. "Why exactly?"

"Hmmm," Samantha hummed somewhat sarcastically. "For starters they're _cassette-tapes_. Not to mention... they're basically the greatest hits of Mullet Rock."

From the looks of it, Deanna had inherited more than just John Winchester's car, but his crappy music tastes as well. As much as the brunette respected her father, some of her least favorite times growing up was listening to the endless supply of 70's music he had amassed over the years.

After all, for as long as she could remember - until two years ago of course - her life had basically been one never ending road trip.

How Deanna could still stand it all was beyond her.

"House rules, little Sammy," Deanna said as she tuned her eyes on the road. "Driver picks the music." Before Samantha could offer up a retort, Deanna cranked up the volume and sent her sister a feigning apologetic look as she pulled out of the lot.

After another hour or two of driving down the beat up road to Jericho, they couldn't go any farther due to a Police blockade at a bridge.

"Look at what we have here," Deanna sang as one of her usual grins slid into place.

Samantha didn't share in her merriment however, as the blonde rolled the Impala to a stop and unhooked the glove compartment. Inside was a collection of different badges and I.D.'s with fake names and Deanna's picture displayed on them.

Samantha closed her eyes and shook her head.

If she didn't see any of this surely she wouldn't be involved.

Once they made their way to the crime scene, they listened in on as much of the Cops' conversation as they could before being spotted.

"You had another one of these cases last month, didn't you?" the blonde asked the nearest one, as she did a quick scan of the broken down car.

The Cop, who was hunched beside the vehicle, rose to his feet and was instantly suspicious as he took in the image of the two sisters. "Who are you?"

"Federal Marshals," Deanna said simply, and raised her fake badge before he could ask her for it.

The man crossed his arms thoughtfully. He couldn't remember the last time had had met a pair of female Feds, not to mention ones in daisy dukes and combat boots. "Can I see that badge again please?"

Deanna beamed at him before handing it over. "Is there a problem... _sir_?" she added after receiving a prompt elbow in the ribs from her sister.

Aside from their appearances he had no real reason to doubt them and the badge seemed legitimate as far as he could tell. Maybe all of those television shows about attractive women working in Law Enforcement were true after all. Shrugging, he gave the blonde her badge back.

"So, that case last month?" Deanna prodded again.

At that, the man flipped back into professional mode, explaining that even despite knowing the victims and looking into the cases they ultimately had no idea what was happening to the men. Whether it be serial killings or a kidnapping ring.

"Thank you for your time, Gentlemen," Samantha spoke up before her sister could offer a retort - she could feel the sarcastic comment coming from a mile away. "You know you could at least try to be respectful to Police Officers," the brunette sighed once they were out of earshot of said officials.

Deanna scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"They don't know what's really going on though - "

"Exactly," the blonde crossed her arms. "If we wanna find Dad, we're on our own, and those yahoos have nothin' for us."

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

Gazing into the murky depths below, Samantha clutched the railing of the bridge like a lifeline.

"So this is where Constance jumped?" she asked, swallowing the saliva that had begun to form in her mouth.

After doing some asking around in town they found out there was a local legend. One about a woman that had been murdered out on Centennial years ago, and still stalked the bridge, hitchhiking and taking whoever picked her up away forever.

All in all, it was a fairly typical story. One Deanna and Samantha had heard a million times growing up. But every legend should be taken with a grain of salt - both figuratively and literally.

Once the two of them got to looking into it, well primarily Samantha, they found out that not only had a woman died, she killed herself - after accidentally killing her two children in the bathtub - on the very same bridge that they found the abandoned, bloodied car earlier that day.

Definitely too suspicious to be coincidence.

"Looks like it," Deanna sighed as she turned away from the ledge, pacing as she often did when she was deep in thought. "Dad has probably already combed through the place though. Since he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."

"So... what're we going to do now then?" Samantha asked cautiously, not sure how to feel about the look in Deanna's eyes.

"We keep digging," the blonde raised a thin brow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"For how long?"

"Till we find him, Sammy."

Tightening her fists at her sides, Samantha tried her hardest to control her emotions. "I told you I have to be back by Monday, Deanna."

"I heard you the first time," Deanna replied icily. "How could I _possibly_ forget about the interview?"

"Then - "

"You were serious about that?" the blonde snickered with mock incredulity. "You seriously believe you can just become some Lawyer and marry your boytoy?"

Samantha merely shrugged. "Maybe."

Deanna closed her eyes.

Ever since they were little girls she knew that all her younger sister ever wanted was a normal home - a normal life.

But the blonde always assumed that when it came down to it Sammy would never trade away their, albeit dysfunctional, family for anything. Deanna wouldn't, and quite frankly it hurt that her baby sister was picking some dude she'd only known for a few years over not only their father but herself as well.

"Does Jesse even know the truth about you, huh?" Deanna changed tact. "Have you told him about what we've done - what _you've_ done?"

At that Samantha shook with the effort it took to keep her temper in check.

"No, I haven't," the brunette admitted through gritted teeth. "And I'm never going to."

"Well, that's healthy," Deanna snorted. "Run all you want, Sis, but eventually it'll catch up to you and you'll have to face who you really are."

"Oh," Samantha challenged. "And who is that?"

Over the years, the brunette had pretended to be so many people, she still didn't even know who the real Samantha Winchester was.

Even after two years.

Maybe the real her was meant to be married and lead a normal, boring life.

Maybe not.

But that should be her choice, not anyone else's, and quite frankly she would choose the former any day.

"You're one of us. You're a Hunter."

"No, I'm not, Deanna. Not anymore," Samantha protested as she crossed the small distance between them. "I'm not living the rest of my life like this."

"You have a responsibility."

"To dad? To his crusade?" Samantha chuckled at the ridiculous notion. "If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like." She trailed a hand over the locket hanging around her neck. "What difference would it make anyway?"

Even if they did magically find the thing that killed their mother someday, it wouldn't change anything.

Their mother would still be dead.

Their father would still be insane.

Their childhoods would still be shit.

"Mom is gone, and she's never coming back."

There was a physical snap in the air as Deanna lost it and slapped Samantha across the cheek.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make it stick.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that," the blonde seethed. "You got me?"

Before Samantha could even come up with reply, something caught her eye in the distance. Farther down the ways on bridge, a woman was standing with her toes over the ledge, white dress flapping in the wind. Deanna noticed simultaneously as well, and before she knew it they were both running fruitlessly after the ghost as she tipped off the edge.

Scanning the water and the ground below, neither sister was able to find sight of the specter.

"Where the hell did she go?" Deanna demanded, still reeling somewhat from their argument.

"No idea."

As the continued to search through the darkness, a bright light suddenly caught them off guard.

"Now what?" the blonde whirled around - just in time to hear the Impala roar to life.

Samantha blinked.

"Who's driving your car?"

Deanna simply lifted the keys from her pocket and dangled them in the air, completely deadpan.

"I think we should run," Samantha suggested as the Impala revved and began veering their direction. Deanna followed her sister's advice, but they both soon realized that outrunning a car was high up on a list of things that were just impossible - even for Hunters. Once the Impala was nearly a foot behind, they nodded to each other and jumped right off the side of the bridge.

Somehow Samantha managed to grab the railing in time, but Deanna wasn't nearly as lucky and landed in the water.

"Deanna?" the brunette called down at the swaying waves, quickly noticing her sister washed up on the shore. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just super," the blonde called back up, encased in a thick layer of mud from head to toe.

Despite herself, Samantha couldn't help but laugh. Even when she went down to help her older sister back up the chuckles still fell carelessly from her lips.

"Glad you find this so amusing," Deanna said as she attempted to wring the muck out of her hair. After a few minutes they eventually made their way back to the Impala to make sure it was back to normal - and it was for the most part.

"I know you didn't mean it, baby," the blonde whispered, careful not to touch the hood with her dirty hands.

"You know, when a guy calls a car 'baby' it's kind of endearing, but when a girl does it... it's just creepy."

"Shut up."

"Anyway," Samantha hedged as she stretched her arms, which were sore from holding onto the railing. "I thought Constance only attacked men, and if you haven't noticed we don't exactly fit her M.O."

"Probably doesn't like us snooping around," Deanna replied dismissively. "Now let's get out of here. I'm not itchin' for a round two just yet."

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

Once Samantha got the lock picked on the door, she and Deanna stepped inside the room that had apparently been checked out to their father for the month. By some stroke of luck, the man at the counter had recognized the name on Deanna's fraudulent Credit Card, which had been ordered off the same scam with the same last name as the one John likely used.

Talk about luck.

As the stepped inside though, they immediately realized the motel room had their father's stink all over it.

To a normal person it would have looked like a psychopathic stalker's wet dream, what with the papers tacked on the walls, but to them it was a look into their father's head and a treasure trove of information if they could distinguish it correctly.

"Hasn't been here for awhile," Deanna noted as she sniffed at his leftover Hardy's bag.

"Looks like he might have been scared as well," Samantha added, glancing at the salt line surrounding the bed. "Find anything worthwhile yet?"

The blonde shrugged, hazel orbs shifting from clipping to clipping. "Just some stuff on the Centennial Highway victims," she trailed off, biting her thumb thoughtfully. "I don't get it though."

From the descriptions in the articles none of the men really had anything in common aside from their gender.

Race.

Age.

Ethnicity.

None of it mattered to Constance apparently.

"Dad figured it out," Samantha said in awe after she pieced the other grouping of clippings together. The ones focused more on lore and Constance Welch. "Apparently she's a _Woman In White_."

Deanna whistled in response as she turned her gaze back towards the pictures of the victims. "You sly dogs... nobody likes a cheater, you know?" she chuckled, thinking what she would do if a dedicated boyfriend ever cheated on her. Definitely wouldn't be able to find the body afterwards. "Well, if Dad knew that then he's torched the remains by now."

Which meant something else was keeping her around, and their job would be significantly more difficult to finish.

"There might be another way," Samantha pondered, making sure to get everything she could from her father's notes.

"Does it say where she's buried at all?"

"Not that I can see anyway, but her husband seems worth looking into."

"That's what I would do if I were Dad," Deanna agreed. "Look and see if you can find an address while I go get cleaned up. Going to be a pain in the ass to clean up the upholstery as is."

"Hey wait," Samantha stopped her sister with an upraised hand. "What I said about Mom and Dad last night... I'm sorry."

"No chick-flick moments please," the blonde groaned. "I'm the one that slapped you anyway."

"Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

Chuckling to herself, something in the mirror on the vanity caught Samantha's attention as the shower started up.

Tucked between the wood and glass surface, was an old picture of the sisters with their Dad. It was on the rare - _very rare_ - occasion that they actually were able to dress up for something. A costume party a girl had invited them to. If it hadn't been for the extended Hunt John was on at the time he definitely wouldn't have let them go, but that time he did.

Samantha, surprise surprise, had been dressed as a princess while all Deanna did was don a pair of cat ears and call it good. She would be lying if she didn't say it was one of the fonder moments of her childhood. Even her father brought a smile for the picture, and for once he actually looked like a proud parent, well, at least just a parent.

By the time Deanna finally stepped out of the bathroom, Samantha had listened to the two voicemails from Jesse and even called him back. He had yet to respond though.

"Think I'm gonna go check out that diner down the street," the blonde said as she slipped into fresh clothes - a pair of way too worn out Levi's and a Led Zeppelin tank top beneath her usual leather jacket. "You want anything? Bet they have some decent pie."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Eh, your loss," Deanna tossed over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. Once she made it outside, the sun instantly brought a smile Deanna's face. There weren't many things she loved aside from the typical vices, but sunshine was definitely one of them. It made her want to strip down and sunbathe.

That would have to wait however, as by the time she even made it half way across the lot, she realized there were some Police glaring daggers her direction from across the way.

_See, this is why you're not nice to the help, Sammy,_ Deanna grumbled internally as she flipped open her phone and hit Samantha's speed dial.

"What?" Samantha's voice demanded gruffly through the speaker on the first ring.

"Five-O, Sis," Deanna replied in the calmest voice she could manage for her sister's sake. "Take off."

"What about you?"

"Already been spotted. Go find Dad," before she could say anymore, there was a hand at her shoulder. "Problem Officers?"

"Where's your partner?" it was the same Cop she had shown her badge to the day before.

"Partner?" the blonde feigned innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about, buddy."

The man narrowed his eyes, signalling for his own partner to search the room for Samantha. Despite herself, she couldn't help the slightly panicked look that crossed her features.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake Credit Cards," he drolled smugly. "You got anything that's real?"

"My boobs," she retorted with a smirk.

After all, she did have a pair of solid C's without any help, and that was something to be proud of damnit.

The Cop didn't seem nearly as impressed as he should have been though, and neither did his partner as they slammed her into the hood of their car.

_Why didn't I wear the damned shorts?_ Deanna wondered as she cursed herself for picking the jeans. With them she might very well have had a chance in actually talking her way out of this. _Oh well, guess I have to rely on my other charms._

You know, the ones that she couldn't pack into something lacy from Victoria's Secret.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

Sucking in a steadying breath, Samantha finally steeled enough courage to place a knock on the dilapidated door of the house in the middle of the junk yard. Which swung open on the third rap.

"Oh, um, hello," Samantha gave a wary smile, and a weak half wave. "Joseph Welch?"

Even just looking at him, she could tell she had gotten the right person - Constance's husband. His eyes, which were slightly shadowed by the trucker's cap he had fixed on his head, were sunken in and looked about as worn as the rest him.

"That's me," he croaked after a second, his voice hoarse from years of use. "What can I do for you?"

Biting her lip, the brunette dug into her pocket and pulled out the folded up picture she had taken from the mirror in her father's motel room. "Have you seen the man in this picture?"

"Let me see," he replied tiredly, holding out his hand as he stepped into the afternoon sunlight. Still thrumming with adrenaline from earlier, she eagerly passed it over to his waiting grasp. "Yeah, I saw him. He came by three or four days ago, said he was some reporter."

"Yeah," Samantha agreed somewhat sheepishly. "We're working on a story together."

At that Joseph's face went sour in a millisecond flat. "I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on," he seethed acidly. "But those questions - "

"About your late wife?"

Joseph nodded poignantly - apparently her father had asked where the woman was buried. Upon being asked again by Samantha the man, albeit begrudgingly, relayed the same fact he had told John.

Constance was buried in a plot out behind his old place up in Breckenridge.

After picking his brain some more about his and Constance's marriage, which essentially equated to asking about his faithfulness, or more accurately his lack thereof, her suspicions were confirmed and she was promptly asked to leave the premises... and to never come back.

Heaving a sigh, she slid into the Impala and turned the engine.

As the old Chevy roared to life, Samantha couldn't wait to just be back home in her apartment with Jesse once again.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

"Fake 911 phone call," Deanna's voice praised through the speaker of Samantha's phone, causing a grin to splay across the brunette's face. "Pretty illegal for you, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes."

"You're welcome," she replied with a chuckle, before explaining what she had found out. After talking with Joseph she now knew for sure that Constance was definitely a Woman In White. What with a cheating husband, and murdering her children. All that was left now was to burn the bones.

But for the life of her she couldn't figure out why, after being told where the remains were, their father would skip town without taking care of the issue. Unless...

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Deanna nearly shouted into the receiver. "Dad isn't _in_ town anymore. He's moved on."

"Care to tell me how you know that?"

Thumbing through the pages for what felt like the millionth time, Deanna turned once more to the coordinates written under her name at the back - just to make sure they hadn't suddenly disappeared.

"I've got his journal, Sammy," the blonde said as she closed the book once again. "Same old Ex-Marine crap as always."

"Coordinates," Samantha shook her head incredulously, wondering why the man always had to use such extremes. Why exactly was it so hard to just talk to her and Deanna like a normal person? It wasn't like a ghost was going to open his book and read the thing. "Where to this time?"

"I don't know yet," Deanna sighed. "I'll look it up the second we're done here."

Ignoring the urge to remind her sister that she wasn't going on yet another hunt with her, she relayed the address of the Breckenridge house and continued on her drive to there.

By the time Deanna showed up, Samantha was already knee deep in grave soil. Strands of dark brown hair hung loose from Samantha's ponytail and were plastered to her neck and forehead with sweat.

"Help has arrived," Deanna announced with a slight flourish as she trudged over to the half dug out grave. Inspecting her sister's handiwork, the blonde clicked her tongue. "Thought you would have been farther along by now."

"Thought... you... would... have... arrived... sooner..." Samantha accented each word with another shovel full of dirt. As much as she loathed to admit it, she had been out of the game a little too long. Grave digging was never that easy, but she couldn't remember it being this hard either.

"Give me that," the blonde demanded, taking the shovel from her sister as she hopped into the hole. "You know it's a good thing we both have lady parts."

"Why do you figure?"

"Much easier to take out a monster when you're not their type."

Samantha smirked before nodding in agreement. She didn't even want to imagine how much more difficult this would be if Constance was targeting them. One good thing about a Woman In White; all they really cared about was men.

Sure, she had sicced the Impala on the sisters back on the bridge, but that wasn't a direct attack and in the end she had let them go quite easily.

The familiar sound of metal hitting wood tore Samantha out of her thoughts.

"Got the salt and the Kerosene?" Deanna asked as she leaned against the upraised shovel.

"Yeah," the brunette replied as she tossed the bottle of Kerosene and began covering the skeleton with salt. Just as Deanna began pouring in the lighting fluid, Constance finally made an appearance.

"I can never go home," she wailed, just as she had on the EVP from the voicemail recording.

"Guess so," Samantha nodded grimly, wondering why the phrase still made her so uncomfortable. Then the woman was soon engulfed in fire, and the skeleton below singed in time with her flickering.

Before long, the flames died out and the Woman In White was gone for good.

Wordlessly, Samantha helped Deanna fill the grave back in.

For her first Hunt back in awhile, it may not have been the most eventful but not all cases were. In fact most weren't.

Not all cases were wrapped up in a neat little bow, or ended in some awesome, climactic display.

Hunting wasn't always fun or action packed either.

Some times it was dirty, and some times it left a sick taste in your mouth.

But that was the life - and Samantha was glad to be rid of it for good now. No matter what coordinates Deanna had found in their father's notebook.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

"We made a hell of a team back there, you know?" Deanna asked almost wryly, as Samantha stepped out of the Impala.

"I know," the brunette admitted, hefting her duffel higher onto her shoulder. "We sure did."

The blonde smiled sadly, before turning her eyes back on the road. "See you around, Sammy."

"See you around."

Then, as Samantha had seen so many times in her youth, the Impala rumbled off into the distance - just with a different Winchester behind the wheel this time. Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she turned back towards the apartment complex and made her way up the stairs. An eager smile soon took root on her face as she was swathed in the familiar territory.

Not that she would ever admit it to Deanna, but it honestly felt good to be Hunting once again. Despite that though, coming home after a stay away felt even better. Once Deanna found their dad again, maybe Samantha could work something out where she joined them every once in awhile.

_'If you leave, you stay gone,'_ the last words her father had said played back in her mind.

While it would be nice to have Hunting getaways, she ultimately knew better.

Hunting was an all or nothing kind of deal.

Shaking her head, she stumbled into her bedroom and flopped down onto the duvet of her bed.

The moment her head hit the lush fabric the stress from the past few days rolled off in heaps. From the bathroom she could hear the sound of the shower going, and wondered offhandedly if she should join Jesse as she had several times before.

As fun as that sounded, more than anything she was excited to be able to sleep in her own sheets. Once she finally let herself relax however, something splattered against her forehead.

Water?

Was there a leak in the apartment above their's?

Opening her eyes, she inspected the liquid she had smeared across her fingertips. It was crimson, and reeked of iron. Panic soon overwhelmed her senses, as she noticed the _source_ of the blood.

Not even caring about the pain that tore through her lungs, she didn't bother to stifle the scream that escaped her lips.

"No," she whined as she watched Jesse becoming engulfed in flames, his gut still dripping from where it had been sliced open. "No. No! NO!"

Somewhere far off she heard her sister's voice among the sound of the flames, and that annoying incessant screaming. She had no idea who was doing it but all she wanted was for them to shut the hell up.

Faintly, she remembered being hauled to her feet and being basically carried out of the apartment by Deanna, but she hoped all of it was just a dream. That she had simply fallen asleep in the Impala on the way back from Jericho.

But, by the time the Fire Department showed up and had the whole complex evacuated, of two things Samantha was absolutely certain:

1.) That this was most definitely not a dream.

2.) That someone, or some_thing_ had killed her boyfriend - along with any subsequent hope of eventual happiness or normalcy.

Shuffling around the back of the Impala where they kept their weapons arsenal, the brunette quickly found what she was searching for. A knife.

"Whoa, Sammy!" Deanna shouted as she saw the glint of metal. "What're you doing?"

By the time the blonde reached her sister's side it was too late.

Samantha had sliced through the low ponytail her hair had been in, causing the chopped short locks to fall flat against her head.

"I'll even that out for ya," Deanna offered delicately, keeping her opinions to herself as she took the knife from her sister's hands and sloughed off the uneven parts, until Samantha once again had the same cut she did before she quit Hunting.

_'I love your hair short,'_ Jesse's voice echoed in Samantha's head. At the time she hadn't paid much mind to the man's preferences, as she was glad to finally have the chance to grow it out without worrying about it being used in a struggle, and stubbornly grown it out.

But that didn't matter anymore.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

Aside from getting revenge.

"We have work to do," Samantha declared, her voice harder than she or Deanna had ever hear it before. Then the brunette slammed the top to the trunk down, and took her rightful place in the passenger's seat.

* * *

.✪.✪.✪.✪.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, so before you bite my head off for giving a retelling or something of the sort, more than anything I just wanted to fully establish the female versions. As it seems genderbend is typically used purely for the sake of pairings, I wanted to take more of a realistic approach and go the full "what if they were female" route.

If you were wondering why some scenes are summarized or just simply cut, I try to do so with the ones that don't last more than a few minutes, or the ones that are purely unnecessary or too redundant.

(May or may not keep this as a oneshot depending on the reception and my motivation or lack thereof. Also, if you have any questions that aren't rife with spoilers feel free to ask I'll answer them.)

Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read this rather long chapter. Took quite a bit of time to write.

See you next time, if there is a next time.


End file.
